


A Traitor In Word and Deed

by Alexilulu



Category: Persona 5, Persona Series
Genre: Double Penetration, F/F, Mildly Dubious Consent, Multi, Self-cest, Strap-Ons, Threesome - F/F/M, tags after this one are for ch3 - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-31
Updated: 2018-03-19
Packaged: 2019-03-11 23:17:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,402
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13534617
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alexilulu/pseuds/Alexilulu
Summary: Haru Okumura's world has been shattered by the revelations of the Metaverse and Morgana. Can it stand one more break?





	1. In a Dream

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by <https://twitter.com/p5_koumei/status/938768627817332736>, which set my god damned life on fire when I saw it. Also inspired by the idea of the Shadow being an inverted arcana; the inverted Empress is associated with smothering love and overwhelming feminine figures (who do still provide nurturing love), and what could be better than that?

The first night after Morgana took Haru into the Metaverse, she dreams.

She sits at her bureau, in her room, the reflection of herself and the rest of the room behind her shining in the mirror even in the dim light of the night. Her pajamas flutter in a sudden breeze from the window, and she turns, finding nothing but the curtain blowing in the wind. She moves to stand, and a gloved hand appears from the darkness behind her in the mirror’s reflection, pushing her back onto the bench.

“Don’t run, dear. I’m here to help you…” The figure in the shadows places another hand on her other shoulder, leaning out of the thick darkness behind her and revealing...herself. Her outfit is the strange musketeer garb she acquired in Mementos, but…Her eyes are yellow. And the way she smiles, something puts Haru ill at ease.

“What is this place?” Haru says, feeling a familiar wariness creep into her heart.

“The Metaverse, after a fashion. Call me Noir. I am you, in another guise.” She leans further down, Haru feeling her hair brush against the nape of her neck. “I am thou, and thou art I.”

Noir’s voice is breathy in her ear, and Haru remains as still as she can, feeling Noir draw closer. Long experience causes her to tense at the contact, but she doesn’t look away from their reflection in the mirror. “Do not fear me, my dear. I am you, and hurting you serves no purpose. Sugimura I am not.” Haru’s lip twitches at the name, and Noir smiles. “Yes, I know Sugimura. I know your whole life, my dear. I’ve seen everything. Every day spent among peers who could never understand you, think you pampered and haughty for fear of reaching out. Every evening spent in the company of a father who sees you as worthwhile only as a bargaining chip. Every night you cried yourself to sleep. I would put an end to all that sorrow.”

“But-- Haru opens her mouth to protest, but one of Noir’s hands lifts from her shoulder to press a finger to her lips, stopping her in her tracks.

“I offer you an escape. My services, so to speak.” Noir’s face tilts in the mirror, her lips pressed softly to Haru’s throat. “An escape from servitude and bondage.” She barely raises her voice to speak, but when she does, Haru closes her eyes and fights back a shiver of pleasure at the contact. “All you have to do is accept my gift. Accept... _my love._ ”

This can’t be right, Haru thinks to herself. This is nothing but a dream, the product of a long, troubling day. Noir’s lips trail up her neck, kissing softly along the trail of her pulse. But...if it were a dream, would it feel like this? Heat rises to her skin as Noir’s hands leaves her shoulders and begins unbuttoning her pajama top, achingly slow, while she mutters something against Haru’s chin, eyes turned towards the mirror to look her in the eye.

“W--why are you doing this?” Haru’s hand reaches up to stop Noir’s on the last button, grasping it tightly to hide how hard she’s shaking. Noir’s expression hardens.

“Because you are me, and it pains me to see my love treated as property. You are so much more than any of these sniveling men could dream of being, and yet you allow them the privilege of your mind and your body without taking what is yours in return. You betray me every time you do not fight back against them.” Then she smiles. “But that’s why I’m here tonight. I want to help you, dearest one. When you accept my love, I will...protect you.”

Protect her. Give her the strength to protect herself…?

Haru’s grip loosens and she nods to their reflections, and the last button pops open. Noir’s gloved hand slides inside, the feel of the leather on skin against her stomach making Haru gasp under her breath. She closes her eyes and whimpers when the glove cups her breast, leaning into the touch despite herself. “That’s a good girl. I am you, and you are me. You’ve done this hundreds of times before, yes? This will feel so much better than those.” Noir pushes gently on Haru’s back, scooting her forward to sit down behind her on the bench, and her other hand, suddenly free of a glove that was there a moment ago, plucks dexterously at the drawstrings of her pajamas, untying them and tugging them down just slightly. Haru whimpers louder, shaking her head to herself.

_This can’t be right. But...it feels like…_

“Don’t reject me, my dear. I am here to show you the love the world would deny you. Don’t you want it” Noir takes hold of Haru’s nipple, rolling it between thumb and forefinger thoughtfully, while Haru’s breathing becomes ragged. “Hmm...still resistant. I knew you would be strong willed, of course. Come, what holds you back, my dear? I offer you my strength, the steel will to never back down to a coward like Sugimura ever again. The love to never have to rely on another.”

“I...don’t deserve help. Love.” The words come unbidden, punctuated by a keening whine when Noir applies pressure with her fingers.

“Self-effacement will not work on me, my dear. I will not accept that such a cowardly girl could be my dearest love. So I will fill you up with the courage of a two-faced betrayer, the one whose name paints the night black as pitch.”

Her hand slips under Haru’s waistband, running a single finger down the material of her underwear, and Haru squirms backwards into her tormentor, her head thrown back against Noir’s shoulder.

“Please, I can fight them, l-let me try!” Noir snaps Haru’s underwear against her skin, and Haru yelps in surprise.

“It is much too late for that. I will teach you strength, write it onto your skin, fill your body with nothing but me, me, me, _me_ and my love for you.” Her fingers slip under her underwear and into Haru, and she howls, writhing against Noir’s hand as it slides further down against now slick skin.

Noir waits for her to still, then leans her head against Haru’s, speaking in a throaty purr into her ear. “Yes, dear, let it out of you. I love you so much, do you know that? I have watched you for years, your whole life, no one could know you better than I. Your greatest skills, your most sensitive spaces,” She moves her hand for emphasis, and Haru bites her tongue and moans, “Your greatest weaknesses.” Her mouth closes around Haru’s ear, sinking her teeth into the flesh and Haru howls, begging Noir for release.

When Noir relents, she withdraws entirely to let Haru breathe, stalking around her like a predator. “You are mine as much as I am yours, Haru. If you let me in, I could give you pleasure beyond imagining, and freedom in the waking world. Will you accept me now?”

Haru breathes, watching Noir move with unfocused eyes. This is real. This matters. She knows she stands on the precipice of something, and closes her eyes when she moves towards the edge.

“Yes.” She can feel herself falling, falling, falling, and Noir catches her, steadying her against the bureau, her face inches from the mirror. She can see Noir behind her, casting her hat and remaining glove aside.

“Thank you, my dear.” She tugs Haru’s pajamas down and leans against her back, caressing Haru’s cheek with one hand while the other strokes her flank. “I’ve always loved you, but never more than in this moment. Let me show you.” Noir presses her into the bureau, her hips against Haru’s and a hand between them, fingers moving inside her in ways she had never even begun to imagine. She cries out in rhythm with Noir’s hand, breath misting against the mirror as she watches Noir’s caring smile shift between wickedness she can’t bear to see on her own face to softness that breaks her heart.

“Imagine the things we will do together, Haru.” Noir slows, leaning across Haru’s back and returning to her throaty purr. “Sugimura’s engagement will never last, not if we take care of him directly. A coward such as him would be so easy to scare off. Imagine it...The fear in his eyes when you pull a knife from your purse the next time he tries something in his personal car.” She punctuates her statement with a violent thrust, and Haru squeezes her eyes shut, pressing her face into the bureau.

“Y-yes…”

“My darling, so beautiful like this--Seeing you like this sets the mind aflame. With Sugimura taken care of, your father will never reach the political realm...But his greed knows no bounds, not anymore. He will run your birthright into the ground if you allow him.” Noir runs her nails down Haru’s side, and she moans through gritted teeth. “The board would leap to take you as CEO if they think you a callow child, an easy stooge to control. All you need to do is prove that Father is unfit. A scandal has been brewing for months, and stealing his Treasure is the perfect chance for him to step down, disgraced but alive. Then you step in. Imagine it, my dear. A company of thousands, bowing to your will. Even if the board believes you a fool, they won’t know the truth until they are removed from power. It’ll just be you, my dear, and me. What do you think?”

“Yes!” Haru cries out breathlessly, her hips moving against Noir’s hand without rhythm, too far gone to try to match her.

“My beautiful Haru, you are so beautiful, do you know that? Look at you, now. Look at _us_.” Haru looks up to see herself in the half-fogged mirror, face streaked with tears and flushed red, hair bouncing in time with her own movements, and Noir’s loving smile next to her. “You are simply exquisite. There is no one in the world like us. They don’t stand a chance. The traitors and fakes of the world have no idea what’s coming for them.” Haru cries out one last time, Noir holding her from falling when her legs give out as she comes. “That’s my good girl, my sweet one, my dearest love. Come here.”

When Haru recovers her feet, Noir presses a kiss to her lips, murmuring her love into Haru’s hungry lips when she kisses Noir back with passion. Noir pulls away, holding up a hand slick with Haru’s cum, and Haru takes it gratefully into her mouth, dutifully sucking every finger clean. “My dear, we’re going to take over the world.” Noir steps back from her, pulling the hat back on from nowhere. “I’ll see you tomorrow night.” 

* * *

 

When Haru awakes, she feels refreshed, like a weight has been lifted off of her. She remembers every detail of the dream, every sensation, and squeezes her thighs together as she lays in bed, thinking of what another night of Noir will bring her.


	2. Awakening

“My dear, I must speak with you plainly.” Haru awakes to Noir’s voice--a voice that is at once hers and yet subtly not, throatier and darker in a way that already sets her heart aflutter in anticipation. They’re laying in Haru’s dreamstate bed together, with her head in Noir’s lap and a gloved hand gently stroking her hair. She looks up to Noir, who smiles when their eyes meet, and the fluttering in her chest intensifies.

The last few days have followed a rhythm; follow Morgana into the Palace for infiltration or Mementos for training, then a nightly visitation by Noir. Their time together has been the balm to the frustration and pain of the Metaverse and the revelations of her father’s slide into madness, Noir serving as both confessional and intimate lover, soothing her fears and showing her the attention she needs with a level of insight she never imagined she possessed.

Haru murmurs assent and Noir clears her throat, sighing. “Do you truly accept me, my dear?”

“Of course. Whyever would you ask that?” Haru answers, brow furrowing. Noir’s expression darkens behind her domino mask, eyes narrowing.

“Your attempts to plumb the depths of the Metaverse are moving quickly, yet your attempts to summon your Persona are no more successful. You rush, heedless of the danger such action brings. Why?”

“I won’t stand by and watch my father descend further into madness and ruin. Noir, we’ve spoken of this already.” Noir strokes her cheek with the back of her glove, achingly gentle.

“My dove, you were born into a gilded cage, your song sung only for others. Do you not see what you are doing? Betraying your own interests by acting for another who cares so little for you is no betrayal at all, merely foolishness, and it shall be your undoing. Watching you suffer in this manner breaks my heart.”

Haru closes her eyes, leaning into Noir’s hand. “You’re right. You’re always right, but that does not change my mind.”

“Do you love me?” Haru’s eyes flutter open, concern written upon her expression at the quiet question Noir poses.

“Of course I do, Noir. You are my only solace in the world…” Haru reaches up, her hand cupping Noir’s cheek. Noir pulls away, taking Haru’s hand into her own and holding it like a flower liable to blow away at any moment.

“You are no closer to your goal, and your attempts to summon your Persona hold a fatal flaw...I love you, and you have accepted that, but you do not love me back, poppet. I have been ever the actor in our time here, never you. You speak lip service to a mutual love between us, but have never shown me it’s form, showered me in it like a summer storm. Now, you stand on another precipice, but one of ruin, not abandon.”

Haru watches Noir silently, biting her lip. Finally, she sits up, throwing her arms around Noir and pulling her close. “I’m sorry, Noir. I...I had feared that I would ruin something, taint our time here. I had imagined this as you coming to me, but I had it the wrong way around, didn’t I? I was seeking comfort, and you answered my call.” Noir smiles, returning the embrace.

“Tis’ true, my love.” Noir pulls back when she hears Haru sob into her ear, wiping tears from her lover’s eyes. “Tears are unbecoming of one such as yourself. You are one who must always shine.” Haru sniffles, shaking her head.

“Why me? Why is this my lot in life?”

“This could only ever be, my darling.” Noir brushes hair out of Haru’s face, smiling sadly. “I am thou, and thou art I. We were made for this moment, though we may never know why.”

The lyrical quality to her voice, the closest Noir has ever come to sounding exactly like her soothes her, and Haru closes her eyes, resting her head against Noir’s chest.

“I do love you, Noir. I love you more than I have ever loved anyone.”

“Then show me.” Noir speaks, and Haru opens her eyes, watching her with awe. “Write your love upon my skin, show me that your heart has been stained black as my name, and you will be free of your gilded cage, free to sing for yourself and no other. Think on this, and return to me when you are ready.”

Haru awakes with a start, Morgana having snuck into the room some time in the night and laid between her feet. Sighing, she tries to get comfortable and return to bed, but Noir’s words haunt her until daybreak.

* * *

The next night, Haru awakes in the shadowy bedroom she always meets Noir in, standing in front of the bed where Noir sits perched on the edge, smiling up at her.

“Quick as ever, my love. It pleases me to no end to see you again.” She stands, and Haru plucks Noir’s hat from her head, casting it aside.

“And I you, darling.” Haru smiles, doing her best to quell the fluttering in her belly. “I would never keep you waiting.” Brushing aside Noir’s hair, she steps closer, lips close enough to touch Noir’s. “I hope you’re ready.”

“I’ve waited my whole life for this, poppet. Show me your determination.” Noir exhales against her lips when Haru kisses her, allowing her to take the lead...until Haru falters. When she does, Noir wraps her arms around her, holding the back of Haru’s head and kissing her back with more passion than ever before. Finally, Haru breaks away long enough to gasp for air, and Noir releases her, a wicked smile on her lips. “A good first showing, but you lack conviction, the strength to continue even when exhausted and broken. My dear, I want you to  _ drown _ me in your love,  _ smother _ my body with the affection we both crave like water in the desert. Now, try again.”

Haru nods, hands drifting down to Noir’s waistcoat, ripping it open in a scattering of brass buttons, cupping Noir’s breasts with both hands through her shirt. Noir’s lips part from the confident smile she had, anticipation quickening her breathing. Haru kneads them in a steady rhythm, moving her palms in slow circles over where her own nipples would be. Noir’s body is Haru’s own, and she knows it well from long nights of exploration, drowning her sorrow in fantasies of a world where she can know love, one she thought she would never see.

Worlds she can see now in the distance, thanks to Noir. Worlds that come closer every day that she continues to move forward.

Haru’s leg slips between Noir’s, sliding up until it comes to a stop against her crotch. Noir shifts, leaning into it and grinding herself down into it with slow pressure, her eyes fluttering shut and breath hitching. “That’s it, darling. I’m here for you.” Haru coos, leaning closer to Noir. “I didn’t sleep last night, after we spoke, you know. Do you know what I was thinking about?” Her hands slow to a stop, and she reaches behind Noir to pull her closer, the heat against Haru’s thigh shifting higher. “All the things I’ve been too afraid to ask you to do to me.” The delighted whine Noir lets out when Haru purposefully hikes her knee higher is music to her ears.

Abandoning Noir’s chest, Haru hefts Noir upwards, grabbing her thighs with both hands and holding her aloft as they kiss again. This time, Haru feels the confidence of a con artist who’s just made the deal of their life, the high of betraying even her own expectations of herself. 

Long ago she had given up the thought of being the lead actress, years of playdates with family friends and recitals where she yearned to be on the stage dismissed as frivolity by her father, told that her place was with the business and preparing to run it, or, more likely, to help her husband run it. Always in the shadows, never the lead. 

Society did her no better, showing women ever in positions of submission, demure and quiet. She conformed, as her father wished, as everyone around her wished. She found solace in the parts of this she enjoyed, but it would never have been enough. It broke her heart, tore it to shreds, and buried them under regret and fear 6 feet deep. But that heart never stopped beating, nevertheless.

And now that shredded heart sings when she’s with Noir. Haru Okumura is the master of her own destiny, the actor on stage betraying the crowd’s expectations when she rips away her mask and reveals the real her underneath. She will never hide who she is again. Especially not from herself.

Haru perches herself above Noir on the bed when they fall onto it together, pinning Noir’s arms above her head with a grip like steel. “So long I was told to be quiet, be polite. I made myself small for Father, for the endless string of men who thought that dating an Okumura would make their fortune, or just a good story.”

Noir squirms under Haru, rubbing insistently against Haru’s thigh with her sex. “Mmh. Sugimura…”

“I thought these things were all I would ever amount to, all I could be worth in this horrid life. You taught me differently, Noir. That I was never wrong, that the world was. That I could be loved by someone, and love in return someone who doesn’t simply want me for the benefits I give them, but the person I am.”

“Haru…” Haru’s grip tightens, and she silences Noir’s pleading with another kiss, slow and gentle. Noir squirms out of her shorts when Haru removes her knee and pulls back, panting with need. They are mirrors of one another, each sweating and out of breath, eyes wide and locked on each other’s own, Noir’s golden eyes shining in the dim light.

“Imagine the things we’re going to do together.” Haru’s hand slips under Noir’s tights, fingers trailing around her entrance in tantalizing movements. “Your love lifts me higher every moment, and I will lift you in turn. We’re safe from the world as long as we have each other. The world trembles when we move.”

Noir shivers in response. “Haru, please, I need you to say it. I believe you, darling, you are worthy of me, but you have to say it, I  _ need it--” _ She cries out when Haru’s fingers slip inside her, arching her back. Haru leans down, kissing Noir’s neck as her hand’s movements drive her partner mad, squirming and gasping Haru’s name. “Haru, please, Haru,  _ Haru _ , I’m  _ begging you,  _ I need you to say it, I’m so close--”

Haru’s mouth drifts up to Noir’s face, kissing her cheek. “I love you, Noir. You gave me my life back when I hadn’t even known how much I had lost, and I will always love you.”

Noir gasps, moaning as Haru’s pace slows. “Yes, my dear, yes, drown me in your love and shout my name to the heavens in defiance! Noir is the night black as soot and deadly to the unwary, unfathomable and ancient beyond reckoning, a danger and yet a comfort...But who am I, Haru?” With a wrenching twist, Noir’s arms rip from under Haru’s hand, reversing their positions in a moment and pinning Haru in the same position. 

“Wh-Noir, wha-nnh--” Noir’s hand moves quickly, wrenching Haru’s pajama bottoms down and striking her weakest point instantly, squeezing her eyes shut at the sudden intensity of her touch.

“That is not my name, not my true name, Haru, merely the one I share with you! All you have left to grasp is to call out my name to the world, and my power, my love will forever be yours!” Noir grinds against Haru’s leg, cackling with hysteric glee. “In your heart of hearts you have always known who I am, Haru, you need only remember.”

Haru moans, Noir driving logic from her mind with every stroke. She need only remember...Someone so familiar, so close to her heart. Keeping her thoughts straight as Noir begs her for release, and Haru begs in return, is a struggle unlike any she’s had before. On the edge, Noir holds her there for what feels like hours, so tantalizingly close and yet so far from the ending she craves. This must be how she felt, wonders Haru to herself. She tries to rally, probing her most treasured memories for who Noir truly could be, the Persona that she truly is and not the Thief she masquerades as.

There’s only one she can think of. A half-remembered story told to her by a maid one night to help with her studies of English. A story of three musketeers, and a noblewoman that Haru never understood the treatment of…

“Noir, no, your name is--Milady!” Haru cries out, long past her limit, and Noir crows with glee as they both come, the dream crashing in on itself as Haru’s mind struggles to keep up with Milady’s ministrations. The only sensation she’s aware of when she finishes is someone, Noir (Milady?) maybe, holding her as they drift upon a sea black as night. 

“I...Milady?” Haru shifts, and a hand on her stomach stills her.

“It is I, Haru. Or should I say, Noir?” Haru opens her eyes, and finds herself dressed as Noir had, as she is in the Metaverse, and a voluminous purple dress spread out below her. Milady speaks from behind her, and Haru is too tired to try to get a good look at her. “You’ve done so well, my sweet one. This is not the end of our assignations, nor of our trials. But. Know that I am always with you, always watching. You will never, ever be alone again, darling.” 

Haru nods, closing her eyes again and relaxing further into Milady’s embrace. “Neither will you be alone, Milady.”

“Just so.”

* * *

“A high school girlfriend...What a turn-on!” The robotic Sugimura looms over Haru, steel claws snapping. “I’ll toy with you until you break!” The monster cackles with glee as it strikes downward at her prone form. The Thieves gasp and move forward to block, but Futaba’s warning saves them from being caught in a volley of explosions issuing from the blinding red light behind Haru that send Sugimura flying.

“What the fuck?” Ryuji looks to Futaba in shock. “When did you get rockets?!”

“They’re not mine, idiot, look.” Futaba gestures back at Haru. “She was Awakening even before she saw her dad’s Shadow.”

Haru climbs to her feet, shaking. “Milady.”

Milady tips her masquerade mask at her master. “Noir. Shall we dispense with the pleasantries with this one, then?”

“That would be a pleasure.” She steadies herself with her axe, placing it in front of her with both hands, head down on the ground for balance. The robot staggers slowly to its feet, rambling incessantly about the things it wants to do to her. Haru drives it from her mind like she has everything else Sugimura has ever said, distractions that need no response.

“I...Should we help?” Ryuji looks to Ren, who merely shrugs. “...Alright, whatever. Haru, you want help?!” Ann elbows him, hissing for him to shut up.

“I’ll be quite alright, thank you, Skull.”

“Well, can you blame a guy for trying? Jeez…” Haru can’t help but smirk at his grumbling. 

“You may fire when ready, Milady. A pale imitation of Sugimura it may be, it will have to do for venting our ire.”

Milady’s petticoats lever wider, her full arsenal of firearms revealed. The fusillade of gunfire is deafening. Almost deafening enough to render Haru’s laughter of glee inaudible as she unleashes two years worth of of pent-up frustration upon the robo-Sugimura. When she’s done, only a scorch mark remains on the steel flooring. The Thieves approach cautiously after, and Makoto catches Haru when her knees finally give out and Milady disappears in a flash of blue smoke.

“Hey, you alive?” Ryuji squats down next to them both, elbows on his knees. “You really did a number on that bastard, Haru.”

Haru smiles weakly, closing her eyes. “Thank you. It’s only a hundredth of what he deserves, but I’ll save that for the real thing.” Ryuji shoots Makoto a worried look, and she shakes her head, deciding it’s not worth pursuing in the moment. “Can I...choose my own codename, now? Mona told me about those, when we were training.” She looks up at Ren when he stops to check on her, who nods. “I want to be Noir. It...means black in French.”

He nods again, as Makoto helps her back to her feet.  “A good name. What made you think of it?”

“It...felt right. If...my family motto truly is ‘overcome failure at any cost, even if it means betraying others’, then I would black that motto out from history. I will paint something new in its place, even if it is simply darkness.”

Ren nods. “We should stop here. Awakenings are rough, you need rest. But...welcome to the team, Noir.”

“The pleasure is mine, Joker.” When Haru smiles, radiant as only she could be, it’s the first genuine smile she’s made outside of a dream in years.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I think that's that. I hope you had a good time with this, I certainly did, even if I got a little overwrought in the second half.
> 
> Food for thought: There's a theory that Milady de Winter, of the Three Musketeers novel and base for the Milady Persona, was intended to be a trans woman. A recurring plot point in the Three Musketeers was that she had been branded a criminal with a certain indelible mark on her body, and every time a man saw it in the story, they were moved to attempt to murder her without any other justification. Just a little something to think about.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're skipping some time between Haru's Awakening and endgame here, more for my own sake than anything else. I would love to write about how awful Haru had it between October and March but then this would be much longer and also I'm saving that for another fic that isn't porn-focused for obvious reasons. So, instead, enjoy some partially context free crazy porn
> 
> There's a bit of dream logic going on so the weirdness around skirts and manacles is intentional and not me forgetting. for real.

Akira snaps awake, blinking and gasping for breath. He had been having a nightmare, and then... “Wh—where am I?”

A voice from behind him answers as a silken glove brushes across his cheek. “Exactly where you need to be, darling.” Akira tries to stand, to turn towards the voice, but finds his hands securely manacled to the wooden chair under him. He forces out a breath, trying to collect his thoughts. Trying to calm himself and failing, Akira opts instead to figure out where he is and work from there.

The room is opulently appointed (unlike his seating), plushly carpeted and cozy. In fact, the carpet is very similar to...He blinks, squinting at the walls to confirm his suspicion. Flowered wallpaper, in a pattern that scratches a spot in the back of his mind. He’s seen it before, but can’t place where. His mind is still fuzzy with sleep, and no small amount of anxiety at finding himself bound once again. He does note, however, the strangeness of his garb. He fell asleep in his own bed at the detention center, in his pajamas, but...this is his Metaverse outfit. How…?

“Now, can you behave yourself, Joker? I would like for you to meet my darling, but I will need you on your best behavior. After all, we both know how...recalcitrant...you are capable of being.” The hand brushes past him again, and he jerks his head away from it with a grunt. “My, even now you resist. This calls for some _discipline._ ” Akira starts when the source of the voice walks out from behind him, head held high with a cruel smile so unlike the person she looks like.

Haru stands before Akira, her smile growing wider at his reaction to her. “Surprised? Don’t be. This is the result of a wish, nothing more. You desired this, as did my darling.” Her eyes are a sickly yellow he recognizes as not Haru’s and peek out from a brocaded domino mask, and her demeanor darker than the true Haru by far. And she’s dressed like her Persona had been, in a red ball-gown and black corset.

“You’re not Haru, even if you wear her face. The Metaverse is gone, you shouldn’t exist.” Akira leans forward, rattling the metal restraints pinning him to the chair. She produces a fan from nowhere, fluttering it once then snapping it shut and striking him on the cheek with it, the metal biting into skin.

“Silence. Stubborn fool, you do not realize that this is for your benefit. You—” Another voice cuts in as the false Haru lifts the fan again, poised to strike.

“Milady, enough. This gives me no pleasure.” Akira’s eyes widen as the curtains he took as merely a wall covering in front of him part to reveal Haru sitting on a throne, dressed in a magnificent gown fit for royalty. A sceptre more reminiscent of a battleaxe than anything else rests against her throne next to her, gleaming in the dim light. “Hello, Joker.”

“Haru? Where are we—” Akira grunts when Milady strikes him again, and snarls at her in response.

“Do not speak so idly your Empress’ name!” Milady barks.

“Milady.” Milady looks down to the floor, chastened. “Better. Now then.” Haru—Empress—turns her gaze back to Akira, smiling genuinely. “We are so unbearably happy to see you again, Joker. It has been only a few months, but your unannounced departure broke our heart. We believe that an apology is in order.” She lifts her chin, looking down at Akira. “You may begin.”

“...I won’t apologize for what I did. I did what had to be done at the time.” Akira meets Haru’s gaze defiantly. “Condemn me if you want. I did the right thing.”

Milady snarls something, but Haru holds up a hand to stop her before she can strike Akira again. “Hmph. Very well. If your words will not come, perhaps we will extract compensation from your body directly. Milady.” Milady snaps into action far more quickly than her outfit would suggest she could, snatching Akira up by a fistful of hair, holding him aloft by his scalp and kicking the chair out from under him.

“Of course, Empress.” Milady drags him up the steps to Haru’s throne, throwing him to the ground and then picking him back up on his knees, kneeling on his legs painfully. “And of course we’ll need to remind him of his place.” Her hands dip into his leather pants, one hand giving his crotch a crushing squeeze that makes Akira gasp while the other wrestles his pants down to his knees.

“Mmm, very good, Milady. We leave this task in your capable hands.” Haru rests her chin in her hand, watching intently.

Milady’s hand closes around his shaft, the silk of her gloves making him shiver when she starts stroking. Her other hand grabs him by the chin, turning his head up to Haru with a grip like steel. Akira struggles in her grasp, trying to get a hold of her from behind with his manacled hands, but stops and cries out in pain when Milady applies that same iron grip to the head of his cock. “Don’t fight, Joker. This is a very different place than the Metaverse, and your Empress rules here. You will not win a contest of strength with me.” Milady says with wicked glee into his ear, returning to stroking his cock as emphasis. “Collaboration will be rewarded far more handsomely than defiance.”

Akira shudders under Milady’s touch, gritting teeth but never taking his eyes from Haru’s face. She’s achingly slow, the friction of her gloves more than enough to make him grit his teeth as he tries not to let any of the emotion he feels show on his face, the aching need for release he’s gotten in prison that she continues to deny him with her frustratingly slow pace. His staring match lasts only as long as he can control himself, which he finds to be a maddening proposition. Milady has an almost preternatural feeling for his limit, taking him closer and closer before she draws him back from the brink with a slap to his cheek or a flick to the head of his dick that makes his head spin every time she does it. It’s not necessarily unpleasurable, but her efforts stops him from coming nonetheless with their abrupt shifts in sensation.

Haru seems to be enjoying herself, a hand inching up the front of her dress, playing with a gold necklace and smiling as she watches Akira fight to control himself. “Enough, Milady. We are stimulated by this play, but it is not enough. More direct methods are needed.” Milady abruptly shoves Akira forward, slamming him into the carpet painfully and grabbing him by the hair again, dragging him forward to Haru’s feet and pulling him back up onto his knees. When he can see Haru again, the skirt of her dress is gone entirely, and she is naked from the waist down. He sits between her legs, her sex only inches away from his face.

Milady pulls him upward slightly by his scalp. “Perhaps your silver tongue will better serve your Empress with a new activity, Joker. After all, they say love is a sacrament best taken kneeling.” Before he can respond, she buries his face in Haru’s crotch, holding his mouth firmly against her.

With only a split second to decide, Akira relents, placing his lips against hers and kissing softly. He is rewarded with a soft gasp from Haru above him, and a fractional release of pressure from Milady on his head, her hand still nevertheless present and forcing him to focus on his task.

In the scant months they had together, Akira imagined a great many things about Haru and himself. Quiet moments shared together, touches and glances and gentle kisses. He knew Haru in the Metaverse and out, and never truly imagined that this could be the stuff of her fantasies and dreams of them. And this must be a dream, he’s sure of it, but it’s one he hopes will satisfy her, until he can return to Tokyo. So he will give her this gift, this penance.

He moves like a man possessed, straining at Milady’s tight grip in order to better reach Haru’s depths with his tongue. The satisfied noises from her Empress seem to please Milady, and she releases her grip entirely, moving back down to his cock and continuing her slow, kneading strokes on a shaft far harder than it had been before. He gasps against Haru when Milady starts, and Haru places a hand on Akira’s head, gentler than he ever imagined her touch could feel.

“Oh, Joker, don’t stop. Your words and your deeds are two different beasts, are they not? This is apology enough for your Empress. Faster, now…” Haru moans louder when Akira takes her command to heart, his stubble from weeks without access to something as dangerous as a razor scraping against sensitive flesh when his pace increases.

They continue like this for dizzying minutes, Milady returning to her cycle of strokes and strikes against his most sensitive areas, doing little to distract him from his task but much to unsettle him, mouthing soundless curses and pleas against Haru’s sex whenever Milady starts the cycle over, an ache in his stomach driving him to work harder for release. Haru’s fingers dig into his scalp, and he feels her pulling him away from her, relenting from his work so she can turn his head up to look at her, chin resting on her pelvis.

“Haah, Akira, you’ve been so good, so kind...I’m ready.” She swallows, smiling. “To crown you, my love. Stand up.” Without waiting, Milady hauls him up by his arm, the manacles clattering to the ground. Haru stands unsteadily with a hand on Akira’s chest, panting for breath, and pulls Akira gently down to sit in her place. Once he’s sitting, confused, she turns to Milady, pulling her into a slow kiss, to his surprise. Akira wipes his mouth self-consciously, unable to take his eyes off of them. Two Harus is more than he could have ever imagined, but...

They part, walking back to Akira with Haru sitting in his lap while Milady fiddles with something on her dress behind her, his view blocked with Haru’s face. “Enjoying yourself, my love?”

“I’m...yes.” Akira nods slowly, and Haru’s hand slips around his cock, touching just lightly enough to make him shiver. After Milady’s constant attention, his nerves are raw and ragged, just that little touch nearly more than he can bear.

“Good. You were always too coy to make a move, and then...you left.” Haru frowns. “We were very upset, you know. Didn’t even tell us. But you’ve done more than enough to prove your devotion to us this evening.” She continues moving her hand over him, watching with glee as  he winces and grinds his teeth. “Milady thought that perhaps seizing the initiative would make things easier for you. Show you that we are not a flower that must only be admired, but a plant that must be touched and tended to in order to yield fruits.” She smiles wickedly. “And those plants must be _fertilized_ , you see.” Haru lifts herself up onto him, and they moan in unison as he slides home into her. Akira fights the dizzy spell that overcomes him, even the feeling of being inside her without moving is still too much to bear. He pants, and Haru giggles to herself. “Oh, my, this is better than we ever imagined. Not even Milady truly compares.”

“We shall see about that, Empress.” Akira’s head lolls to the side, finally catching a glimpse of what Milady is up to in front of him. When he sees the gunmetal grey strap on she’s sporting with the bottom of her gown now cast aside, his eyes go wide. “Are you prepared?”

“Yes, Milady. Don’t be gentle.” Haru turns back to Akira, taking him by the chin and kissing him fiercely as Milady approaches from behind her. The end of the kiss is cut off by a sustained groan low in Haru’s throat as Milady moves into her, leaving her short of breath. She leans heavily on Akira, hands on his shoulders. “O—okay. I’m ready. Let’s—” Haru is cut off by a loud squeak of surprise when both Akira and Milady jump into action. Akira barely controls himself, thrusting wildly in comparison to Milady’s calmer pace. Akira can barely think, the sounds and sensations on display from everyone too much for him to process. Even with how hard they’re fucking her, Haru still finds the time and the breath repeat Akira and Milady’s names to herself, and to pepper Akira’s face with kisses between gasps for air and her chant of names and swears Akira never imagined Haru saying in his wildest dreams. Even with how close Akira thought he was to coming when Haru had him like putty in her hands, he seems to have found a second wind, and their connection lingers for agonizing, wonderful, dizzying, unbelievable minutes.

Akira finds himself clinging to Haru’s hips for his own sake, allowing himself the abandon to yell and cry out wordlessly every time he slams himself home against her. To pant and kiss her back when they meet, to forget every worry he’s had in this bizarre dream and outside it and let himself enjoy the moment until he finally tips over the edge after so long clinging to it. Akira comes noisily, unable to stop the movement of his hips from blotting out everything else with the feeling of release of that knot of pain and pleasure in his gut. He remembers nothing else of the night after that, if it even happened.

He wakes up the next morning in a puddle of sweat and more than a little cum, silently glad that the detention facility allows them private rooms and a weekly change of bedding.

* * *

His return to Tokyo is without immediate fanfare; he boards a train back into the city from the country town the facility calls home, disembarks, gets on the Yongen line, and walks down familiar back streets towards his friends. There is no grand reunion in the streets, only a sunday.

Akira wasn’t expecting to find Haru waiting outside Leblanc, hands clasped together in front of her. Maybe he should have. He stops in front of her, hand tightening around the handle of his bag self-consciously. “Hey.”

“H—Hello, Akira.” Haru smiles brightly, but her cheeks are as red as her tomatoes. “I’m glad you’re home.” She unclasps her hands, brushing hair to the side and not meeting his eyes.

“Yeah.” He steps closer, taking her other hand and bowing to kiss the back of it. “I owe you an apology. I had a lot of time to think about it, and...I should have told you.” He looks up from her hand, and finds her smiling again, meeting his eyes.

“A—Akira, you don’t have to apologize. After all…You already did. Remember? So many times, actually.” Akira didn’t think she could blush deeper, but she finds a way. He can feel his own face heat up at the thought of their other midnight Metaverse rendezvous in the weeks since that first night.

“I suppose you’re right.” He doesn’t release her hand, lacing his fingers between hers. “Then, shall we?” He nods towards the door, and she nods in turn, squeezing his hand.

Even after the door opens, the crash of noise of everyone’s simultaneous greeting, the crush of hands and people and arms, Akira doesn’t release Haru’s hand. Even if he doesn’t have a choice about it, Akira will never willingly walk away from her again.


End file.
